Page 25 of Small Town Frenzy
I look around as if I missed the clues, but I don’t see the name Greene anywhere. Finally, I glance up at him. “It is?”
“It is, but they don’t feel the need to name everything after themselves. And you have nothing to worry about. They allow all sorts in here, even Dovers on occasion.” He only gives me a flash of that smirk I know gets him his way too often.
“Funny,” I remark, but fail to restrain a laugh. I blame the beer and my lack of defenses in this condition. Makingsure my cousin does not bust me, I slide my gaze to Savvy, who’s oblivious to my current predicament as she yucks it up with her fiancé and some of the other players. When I look back at Griffin, I show him the indifference he deserves despite that being a difficult emotion to hold on to when he’s standing so close that I can smell his aftershave.
My knees weaken, but I grip onto the jukebox to keep myself from falling for his lines any more than I already have. Don’t get me started on his stupidly handsome face. Why does he have to smell so good and then back it up with that incredible gift of attractiveness? I huff, and then add, “So you’re here for the celebration?”
“Is that what you want me to say?”
Shifting, I anchor my hand on my hip and tilt my head. “I can’t figure you out. It shouldn’t have to be this hard, Greene.”
There’s a pause as if he’s thinking about it. Then he replies, “You’re right. Weapons down, Dover?”
“At least for tonight, okay?” Dropping my hand to my side, I even manage a smile . . . a small one, but it’s better than the other extreme reactions he usually elicits from me.
He holds his hand out. “I’ll take that deal.”
I hesitate, knowing I’m going to feel some way about that kind of contact with him—hate or the opposite. I won’t know until I-I stop overthinking, take a deep breath, and slip my hand into his.
My first thought,it’s not hate . . .
My second,I’m in trouble.
I pull my hand back like the connection was flaming hot. Not a lie. I hate that I’m so conflicted when it comes to him. Does he not remember our time in Costa Rica? The pregnancy may have been a surprise parting gift, but I don’t regret any part of that night, especially not Jacob.
The more I get to know Griffin, the more I start to loosen the tight constraints on my inhibitions around him. That got me in trouble once before. It's probably best if I don’t repeat that mistake. I’m so conflicted when it comes to Griffin Greene. Why does he have to be such an anomaly?
Hot. Cold.
Friendly. Annoying.
Attracted to him physically. Turned off by his arrogance. . . kind of.
Safe to tell him about Jacob or a danger that he might take him away?
He pulls out so many emotions that I’m not sure what to think. I want to slap him one minute and kiss him the next. Surely, that can’t be normal. How does he affect me like this? I just know I felt something with him during that one night we shared. I should have acted on it instead of pretending it meant nothing and let him walk out the door.
“Can I buy you a beer?” he asks, his eyes staring into mine as if he doesn’t hear the ruckus over on the shuffleboard table as some players wager over the next shot. He blinks, not rushed, but like we have all the time in the world on our side.
But it’s the subtlety of him leaning closer, just barely noticed but fully caught by me, that sends a zip of electricity through me, reaching my toes, and has me replying, “Yes.”
“Come on.” He nods toward the bar at the back. With a little pat to my hip, he passes, gliding between tables like he’s familiar with the place, a confidence that makes me tingly. In turn, I dodge customers and revelry, ducking to avoid a serving tray full of drinks as a server passes between Griffin and me. He’s in his element, and I have no clue what I just agreed to.
Reaching the bar, I slip onto a vacant stool and tap myfingers on the wooden bar top edged with a fresh brass trimming. He nods to the older gentleman behind the bar who smiles when he sees him. “Son, how’s it going?”
My chest tightens. Oh great. I wasn’t expecting to meet the family tonight . . . me, the mother of this man’s grandson. “I’m in Greene County, alright,” I whisper under my breath.
He chuckles, glancing over at me. The heat from his hand brushes across my lower back in comfort, sending every bump straight up on my body in a thrill zipping up my spine. He whispers, “You’re safe with me.”
God, I want to believe that, but am I?Is Jacob?My heart is softening but my brain won’t let me enjoy any of this. He asks, “What are you drinking, Little Chirp?”
“Is that what we’re going with? Little Chirp? That’s it?” My shoulders fall. “That’s my nickname?”
Spinning on the stool to face me, he rests an arm on the bar. “You don’t like it? I was growing partial to it.”
“You’ve used it once. Now twice. I didn’t even know if I’d see you again after today, and you’re already growing partial to a nickname for me?”
He glances at his dad. “Two lagers please.”
